


Third Party Perspective

by Chi_Yagami



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Another Story (Mystic Messenger) AU, Another Story Spoilers (Mystic Messenger), Choi Saeran Bad Ending (Mystic Messenger), F/M, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Slow Burn, Vanderwood (Mystic Messenger) Backstory, Vanderwood POV, Vanderwood Route, if MC fell victim to Mint Eye
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25325602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chi_Yagami/pseuds/Chi_Yagami
Summary: Agent Vanderwood had always thought Seven was just trying to save his soul for his religion by taking part in a charity group.  They often committed horrendous crimes; so he let the kid donate some money to feel better about the world.Vanderwood never imagined it would lead to an extremist cult, a long-lost brother with multiple personalities, and a mysterious, brainwashed girl.  He only stuck around to make sure Seven finished his work for the agency.  That was all.  It had nothing to do with said girl...
Relationships: Vanderwood/Main Character (Mystic Messenger)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	1. The Job

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T for language, mentioned brainwashing, drug usage... the typical Mystic Messenger things.

Agent Vanderwood was beginning to regret his decision to accept the current mission. Not that it was a _real_ mission. This little blip of a job could hardly compare to the risks he took at the agency. His life had been on the line many times during his years as an agent; this particular task was hardly life-threatening.

No, he was regretting it because the entire situation was becoming stagnant. He had been on surveillance for nearly a week now, and Vanderwood could feel the hours _crawling_ by. _Nothing_ had happened. Nothing was _happening_ . Nothing _would_ happen. This so-called stakeout was starting to feel like a joke. He should have never agreed to this ridiculous job.

_But you wanted his precious baby_ , he reminded himself. Yes, that's right... if he suffered through this foolishness, he'd be the new owner of one exclusive, customized Herrari. Although, it wasn't just _owning_ the car, but the fact that he would own the precious baby car of his insane partner. Lording that car over Seven would bring him the greatest satisfaction of all.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, but Vanderwood took his time in answering. The agency would never straight-up call; they always sent notice first, to be sure their calls were answered. Besides, it was his second phone that was ringing... and only one person had that number.

“What do you want, 707?” he drawled, leaning back against the wall he'd been peering over.

“ _How's my favorite housekeeper?”_

He rolled his eyes. “Would you quit calling me that? You should be thanking me for cleaning up after your sorry ass,” he griped. He knew the younger agent was grinning on the other end of the line.

“ _I'm always appreciative, Madam Vanderwood,”_ he heard Seven joke. Then his partner grew serious. _“How are things looking over there?”_

“The same as before, you asshole. Nothing has happened; I still don't understand why you sent me on this wild goose chase in the first place.” He shifted so that his legs weren't cramping.

“ _I told you, the hacker attacking the RFA messenger, as well as my personal server... he's there. Somewhere in that area. Not to mention the RFA leader's suspicious absence... the last location I got from V was around there, too.”_ Seven's tone was grave, something Vanderwood rarely heard. Usually it was a good sign; 707 was at his best in serious mode, though Vanderwood wished he'd be more serious during _actual_ missions. _“Once we catch this hacker, the RFA will be safe, and you can go back to cleaning my bunker.”_

“And I'll be the new owner of your car,” he reminded Seven.

“ _Nooooooo, not my prized babe!”_ the other man cried dramatically. _“Please, I'll do anything!”_

“You idiot, we already made the deal. If you keep whining, I'll come back right now, take the car, and leave,” he threatened. “There's nothing suspicious here. I've practically seen everyone in this town; while there _is_ a hotbed of crime in this area, none of these people are smart enough to be your hacker. Nor do any of them resemble your odd leader.”

“ _Just keep your eyes peeled,”_ Seven instructed his senior. _“I got another ping earlier that reaffirms he's definitely there. Keep me updated.”_

The call was terminated, and Vanderwood felt more annoyed than before. Just who did Seven think he was, treating _him_ like his personal slave? Seven's childish mockings of “Madam Vanderwood” and “housekeeper” popped to mind, and he felt the sweat roll down his forehead. He really should stop keeping after that boy.

Determining that nothing, yet again, would happen tonight, Vanderwood made his way down from the roof he'd been perched upon. He'd been surveying the main town square for the past few hours, but now he was tired, cramped, and bored.

Time for a drink.

“Whiskey dry, please,” he told the bartender behind the counter of the dingy pub he'd chosen that night. The older man gave Vanderwood a once-over before turning away to make the drink. He supposed he ought to have changed... his tight v-neck shirt and designer skinny jeans look didn't really suit this atmosphere. But he had been so eager to get a drink that he'd forgotten about his disguise. It could have been worse, he supposed. He could have been wearing the white pantsuit.

He looked down at the drink placed in front of him. Why the hell was there _ice_ in his whiskey? Damn it, this didn't even _taste_ like whiskey. Vanderwood gagged internally as he downed the alcohol. Then again, he was far from the big cities; he should have known better. He threw some bills on the counter and wondered if it was worth trying elsewhere, or if he should just call it a night.

Two minutes later he had left the bar and was heading back to his hotel. His thirst had been killed after a group of rowdy men had started in on his “skimpy clothes and long girly hair”, and Vanderwood was ready to sleep off the dull day and start a new one tomorrow. Oh joy.

He had just pulled out a cigarette when a scream halted his tracks. Jamming the smoke back into his pocket, his feet took off across the pavement in a familiar run. After a week of nothing, Vanderwood was almost excited that _something_ was happening. Running in the direction of the screams, Vanderwood heard other yelling as well.

“You thought you could just walk out on us?”

More screams.

Vanderwood slipped behind a low wall near the alley where he could assess the situation. His fingers were resting on his taser for the moment, but he was prepared to grab his gun if necessary. It was suddenly too quiet... He chanced a peek over the wall.

Two dark figures were huddled over a third. Judging from the long, bare legs, it was probably a woman. He relaxed. As terrible as this scene was, he was trained not to intervene in everyday problems. Even if they were morally wrong.

A secret agent did not play the vigilante.

“Open your damn mouth, girl,” another man's voice growled. Only a second later, he howled in pain and jerked back.

“Bitch bit my hand!” he cried to the first man. “I don't care what the Savior says, _I_ say we kill her!”

_The savior?_ His hand went back to the taser. Vanderwood really didn't want to get involved, but what were they talking about?

“Calm down, C176,” the first man said. The other shifted out of the way, and Vanderwood had a good view.

Sure enough, there was a woman on the ground, beaten and badly bruised. The first man was attempting to shove something into her mouth, while the other still examined his injured hand.

“Gotcha,” Vanderwood heard the man say victoriously. The woman started to cough and hack, struggling to break free. She managed to knock something out the man's hand; it fell onto the pavement and shattered, revealing a shiny, blue liquid.

She attempted to crawl away, even as one of the men kicked her in the stomach. “Help... someone... I need to... Where is he?” She sounded dazed and delusional.

Vanderwood turned away and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. This was the life he led. This was the path he chose. He wasn't even supposed to _be_ here; he'd blame his guilty conscious on...

“Luciel! Luciel!” she suddenly screamed. “Luciel, where are you!”

_Luciel?_ Surely, she couldn't mean...?...!

Vanderwood was up and over the wall before he could even finish that thought. The second man, who happened to be closest, went down with a yell as the taser went off. The first and larger man stopped assaulting the woman and whirled around to face the newcomer.

The agent's eyes flew everywhere repeatedly, trying to create a path of escape. Now up close, he could see that the man's dark robes had strange designs. Were they religious...?

Vanderwood edged his way between the girl and the man, who was eying him thoughtfully.

“Just what have we here?” he asked gruffly. “A punk kid out looking to buy drugs?”

Punk kid...? He might be in disguise, but these threads were high end! Speaking of drugs, though...

“Just what did you give her?” he questioned, inclining his head back at the lady.

The man grinned. “Something to keep her quiet.”

There was a roll of thunder overhead, and the agent could only hope the rain held off before he made it to his car a few blocks over. Taking out this buffoon shouldn't be too much of a challenge... Vanderwood smirked. His opponents _always_ underestimated him.

* * *

It was pouring by the time he managed to carry the woman back to his car. The vehicle was sleek and black and blended perfectly with the darkness of the alley. It belonged to Seven, one of his lesser babies, and Vanderwood had borrowed it (without permission) for the drive here to this remote town.

The woman was still muttering things like “Luciel” and “I’m sorry” and “save him” as Vanderwood loaded her into the passenger seat. He cringed as she dripped all over the leather interior of the car, but it was Seven's so he would let the younger man deal with the cleaning bill. The girl was shivering with fever, and he could smell the chemicals on her breath. It would be unfortunate if she had swallowed too much before managing to knock the vial away. He needed her awake and sober if he was going to extract any useful information from her.

He briefly mourned the loss of his cigarettes still in the hotel room, but there was no time to go back for them. At least his clothes and weapons were all in the car. Those were too valuable to be left behind.

He dialed Seven's number as soon as his bluetooth had connected. After taking care to strap her under the seat belt, Vanderwood fired up the car and peeled out of the alleyway. It only took two rings for 707 to pick up.

“ _Madam, I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon! Did you miss me~?”_

“We’ve got a situation,” he interrupted, not in the mood for Seven’s playful banter. “I need you to prepare a table or something. For detox. Which means cleaning up your fucking crumbs.”

Seven paused, as if he hadn’t quiet heard correctly. “ _Detox?”_ His tone grew serious. _“What happened? Are you injured? Did you find–”_

“Just prepare the damn table,” he growled, speeding down the highway as much as he could without weaving in and out of traffic. It wouldn’t do to get pulled over for reckless driving.

“ _Yes ma’am,”_ Seven responded before ending the call.

Vanderwood glanced over at the young woman before turning back to the road. She had quieted down a bit, but every now and then she’d mumble something in her delirium. How did she know Luciel? Not many people knew that name. Only four people in the agency knew that 707's real name was Luciel. Luciel wasn't exactly a popular name in Korea... and the fact that the girl was trying to escape robed thugs in the same area where Seven's charity's leader had vanished... What was she doing before those men had caught her? Why were they after her? And just what did they want her to keep quiet about?

A loud intake of breath came from his right as Vanderwood made a sharp turn. He looked over again, pleased to see that she had sat up and was looking around in alarm.

“Where am I?” she asked dazedly, watching the windshield wipers go back and forth. She caught sight of him with a jolt. “Who are you?!”

“Good, you’re awake. That means the drug hasn’t completely infiltrated your blood stream,” he said, the last part more to himself. Addressing her properly, he said, “You’re safe. That’s all you need to know.”

“I'm... safe...?” she repeated slowly in between deep breaths. “I need… Luciel… we must… save…” Her words trailed off as she slumped back into the seat. Breathing, but unconscious.

“Hey lady, don’t you die on me now,” he threatened.

Why did Seven have to live so damn far away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _What if MC had cracked under Saeran's torment? By becoming submissive, she can get a Bad Ending. The MC who gets a Good Ending for Ray is a strong-willed person, but many girls could struggle with Saeran's treatment. This MC is one of them._
> 
> So, here is my long awaited Vanderwood route story. Done in a backwards way, I suppose? Since the story follows Vanderwood's POV and not the MC. But Vanderwood is much more fun to write like this. Chapters will be similar length to my V story, fairly short.
> 
> If another route is ever made, I'm sure it will be Rika's and not Vanderwood's... but I am allowed to hope, right?


	2. The Drugs

He could really use a cigarette right now.

It took almost an hour to reach Luciel's house, even with all of the speeding Vanderwood had managed to do in the storm. By then, the woman's condition had deteriorated considerably. She was shivering so much from her fever and the rainwater that her teeth chattered, and she was having difficulty breathing. Vanderwood slipped an arm under legs and another behind her back and hoisted her out of the car quickly. The storm wasn't here yet, and he wanted to get inside before it arrived.

There wasn't enough time to take the back road to the underground garage, so he was forced to park out front. Seven's security system activated as soon as Vanderwood came within twenty feet. The camera followed his every move as he approached the gate attached to the high wall surrounding Seven's fortress of a home. He had already entered a password back at the fence surrounding the property, but that wasn't enough for Seven Zero Seven.

“ _State your business,_ ” the robotic Seven voice boomed.

The girl's wet skin began slipping through Vanderwood's hand, and he dug his fingers into her thigh to keep her from falling. “Damn it, Seven! Let me in!”

“ _What is 707's greatest achievement to date?_ ” the voice demanded.

Shit. He wasn't up to date on Seven's passwords. He gripped the woman tighter in his frustration. “Shit shit shit.”

“ _Please state the password in Arabic._ ”

Vanderwood's pocket Arabic dictionary was in the car, and he didn't have time for this. “Damn it, Luciel, open the fucking door!”

The robot responded in Arabic, no doubt something insulting. However, Vanderwood heard the various locks unhinging, so he would save his complaints for later.

Seven was hurrying out to meet them. “Sorry, I assumed you would enter through the garage. What happened? Where's– _is that a woman?_ ” The redhead's eyes widened behind his glasses as he spotted the unconscious girl in his coworker's arms.

“Get me to the table,” Vanderwood ordered, bypassing Seven into his own house and trusting the other man to keep up.

Detoxification was a tedious process. It required a great amount of concentration and patience, and only a select few agents had mastered it. Vanderwood did not consider himself to be one of them. However, it was something he had studied with one of his mentors in the agency. He had never taken the exam for 'mastery', and if the agency knew he was about to perform on a civilian... He would be summoned to headquarters and subsequently punished.

Vanderwood had Seven lay the girl out on the table while he organized the tools Seven had collected and placed on a rolling cart. Some of the instruments were rather crude, and most certainly unsanitized. The woman should really be at a hospital, but only a select few people should know Seven's real name, and this woman was not one of those. Vanderwood had done thorough background checks on the people from that charity group Seven associated with, and he definitely did not recall her being on the list. Only one female was in the group, the overworked assistant to the cat-obsessed CEO.

It was his job to know everyone and everything that Agent 707 involved himself with, and Vanderwood did not know this girl.

“Fuck, Seven, why isn't any of your shit clean?” he hissed, searching for the least filthy-looking needle.

Seven reached over. “Here, this one's never been used.” His eyes returned to the girl. “So, are you going to explain how you slayed the dragon and brought back Sleeping Beauty?”

“Gloves,” ordering Vanderwood, donning his own pair. Seven begrudgingly took a pair as well. “I don't have time for your nonsense. I need you to wipe her arm clean and find the largest vain while I prepare the anesthesia.”

Seven surprisingly got to work quickly and silently. Spying another clean needle, Vanderwood snatched it from the pile and set it aside for later. First, he had to make sure the patient wouldn't accidentally wake up during the process.

A feminine shriek pierced the silence. It would seem she had regained consciousness. Vanderwood swore under his breath; _Seven, you had one job._

He turned to find Seven doubled over on the ground and the girl attempting to climb off the table. “She kicked me right in the gut!” Seven proclaimed, apparently taken more by surprise than actually in pain.

“Don't touch me!” she screamed in response, scooting backwards, away from Seven.

She almost fell off the back of the table, but Vanderwood stopped her. “Hey, you shouldn't move so much. You've been drugged.”

“Don't let them cleanse me!” she pleaded, reaching out to grasp his shirt between her fingers. “Ray promised me they wouldn't! Don't let them... don't let... please... please don't throw me away... please...” She broke down into sobs.

Putting away that information for later questioning, Vanderwood eased her back onto the table, keeping his voice light and soothing as he distracted her. “Don't worry, I won't let them hurt you.” He helped her lie down. “Who is Ray?”

She began babbling, half coherent, half nonsense. “Ray is... Ray is gone,” she cried, not noticing when Vanderwood nudged her back, forcing her to lie down again. “ _He_ killed him... killed Ray... and... _he's_ hurt... We have to save him! He's being... tortured...!” She continued crying as Vanderwood shushed her gently and finished wiping her arm with the alcohol pad Seven had meant to use. With swift and precise movements, Vanderwood stuck the needle full of anesthesia into her vein, only removing it once it had fully drained.

The woman gaped at him, her brown eyes wide with shock. “You... you said I was... safe...” She sounded completely betrayed. The drug kicked in, and she drifted off into unconsciousness once more.

“And so you are,” Vanderwood replied quietly. He turned back to Seven, who was watching the girl thoughtfully. “If you have time to do nothing, here's something.” He passed a small vial to the hacker. “Run diagnostics on this. I want to know exactly what's in it.”

Seven peered at the blue liquid. “What is this?”

“Whatever they poisoned her with.”

The hacker gasped. “You're joking!? This is poison? What _happened_ to you, Madam?”

Vanderwood refused to answer until Seven finished examining the drug. It was determined to be a mix of different opiates, mint, and something Seven's program couldn't identify, an unknown chemical. Opiates, Vanderwood had expected; he smelled it on her breath. Mint, he had not. He supposed the mint was used to diffuse an unpleasant odor or taste of the poison.

“What do you think the exact effects of this combination are?” Seven pondered, looking over the printed results.

“The men who force-fed it to her said something about wanting to keep her quiet,” Vanderwood replied. “I suspect it alters the memory somehow.”

“She was forced to drink this?”

“Two men were beating her up in an alley and then forced her to drink from a bottle twice that size,” Vanderwood continued. “She knocked it away maybe halfway through.”

“Twice this size!?” Seven exclaimed, glancing at the vial. “That amount of these chemicals could kill a grown man!”

“That was definitely a possible outcome; one of them wanted to kill her, but the other man mentioned something about a 'savior'... I found this second vial in one of their pockets after I tased them.”

Seven chuckled dryly. “You're scary with a taser, you know?”

“You should get back to work,” Vanderwood bossed. “The agency will notice if you wait too much longer. The client is getting impatient.”

Seven looked back to the girl on the table. “Don't you need me to help?”

“Not right now. I need to concentrate on creating the correct dose of antidote to give her,” replied Vanderwood, already turning back to the medical supplies. “Once that kicks in, however... if she should wake up, I may need you to help restrain her.”

Seven's eyes lingered on the girl again.

“Don't make me use my taser a third time today,” warned Vanderwood.

The hacker coughed nervously before slinking away to his computers. Seven had been on the receiving end of that taser once. _Once_ was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a long time trying to research about detox. All it really got me were automated webchats asking if I wanted to schedule an appointment for my apparent drug usage problem.


	3. The Girl

Three hours, two needles, and one antidote later found Vanderwood spent, sleep-deprived, and slovenly. He rummaged through Seven's kitchen cabinets, looking for anything that wasn't Honey Buddha or Ph D. Pepper. The clock on the microwave read 2:26 AM, reminding him it had been hours since that foul whiskey at the bar. He found a can of coffee hidden behind a few empty soda boxes. Relieved to see it hadn't expired, Vanderwood fetched the coffee pot (the one Seven only kept because Vanderwood had threatened to flush his chips down the toilet if the hacker didn't keep _some_ other appliance besides a microwave in his kitchen) and left a pot to brew.

Seven was typing away furiously on his computers, uncouthly shoveling fistfuls of chips into his mouth every now and then.

The girl on the table was still unconscious, although the antidote was beginning to kick in. Vanderwood could see the sweat on her brow as her face scrunched up from the pain. Her body twitched frequently. She would probably wake up soon, and it could take up to three days before the poison was completely out of her system. There was a glass of dark liquid ready on the rolling cart to help expedite the process, but... Vanderwood knew she wouldn't find the results pleasant.

Waiting for his coffee to brew, he put on another pair of gloves and took the time to examine the woman more closely. He hadn't paid too much attention before, considering the dire circumstances, but he was an informant, and Vanderwood would always gather whatever information he could about a target, however and whenever. 

The woman had long brown hair that was greasy and knotted, and she smelled of body odor and dirt, as if she hadn't showered for days. Numerous cuts and bruises marked her skin... Vanderwood's attention was drawn in particular to a series of purple blemishes dotting her neck and collarbone, some only visible due to the ripped collar of her dress. Her lips were chapped and badly cut, and there was a barely noticeable swelling on her right cheekbone. More bruises colored her thighs where Vanderwood had gripped her skin earlier, but he could tell they were several days old and not left from him. Her bare feet were filthy, and he could see stains on her clothes. Not exactly a sight for sore eyes, but Vanderwood had seen much, _much_ worse; she would recover fine... physically, at least. He examined her black dress and its pockets, finding a phone, a few flower petals, and yet another vial of sparkling blue liquid. He sniffed it and pursed his lips.

“Seven, I need you to run another test.”

“She was carrying _that_?” the hacker asked, joining his fellow agent by the table. “Maybe she's just an addict and the men were drug dealers?”

Vanderwood passed him the little jar. “No, they were definitely forcing it upon her. But I need you to test this. It smells different than the other one... almost... _sweet_.”

Seven paused to sniff the liquid, too. “Yuck, smells like peppermint and milk.”

“Just run the damn diagnostics,” Vanderwood barked, depositing the petals into an evidence bag for later. Then he studied the phone.

“Don't worry,” he heard Seven explain, “if her GPS was on, my signals scrambled the location as soon as you exited the freeway.” The redhead was setting up his machines as he talked. “You know very well that my bunker can't be tracked so easily.”

“I wasn't concerned with that,” the older man snorted, turning the phone over in his hand. It was a smaller-sized smart phone with a pink case. A tiny heart-shaped charm hung from one corner. Pressing the home button revealed nothing, and after a few more attempts, he determined the device to have a dead battery.

“Sooooooo~ are you going to tell me _why_ she's here?” Seven inquired playfully. “Rescuing damsels in distress is not in the handbook, Ms. Vanderwood!”

Vanderwood ignored his ridiculousness. “She knows your name, Luciel,” he responded bluntly, examining the phone for fingerprints.

“Huah! _My_ name, you say?” Seven drummed his fingers on the counter. He then snapped them with realization. “You mean... could it be... she is a consumer of the super~ incredibly popular SevenStar Drink⭐!?”

Vanderwood whipped around and fired his taser in Seven's direction without missing a beat. The hacker narrowly avoided the weapon, barrel-rolling to the side just in time. He gasped dramatically. “It turned out to be the maid in the dining room with a taser!”

“Stop fucking around,” growled Vanderwood. “I buy you time with the boss, and _this_ is how you thank me?”

“I tried to thank you before, with Honey Buddha Chips,” Seven reminded.

Vanderwood could feel a vein in his forehead twitch. The hacker, however, was spared any further tasering with the _ding!_ of his machine. It was done analyzing the second drug.

“Water, mint, milk, blueberry... sugar, salt... quinine...” Seven listed, passing the results to Vanderwood. The small jar had been full of nothing poisonous, just a bunch of things that surely wouldn't taste good together.

“A fake,” Vanderwood decided. “She must have been using it to deter them from forcing the real thing upon her.”

Seven gagged. “This probably wouldn't taste any better.” He looked over the girl again. “What do you suppose happened to her? Some of these bruises look old, and she seems a bit thin.”

“The men chasing her wore dark robes with strange markings.”

“You mean they were wizards?”

“...I was thinking more like a religious sect,” countered Vanderwood, placing the phone next to the bag of petals and the glass of dark liquid on the rolling cart.

The redhead tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Speaking of... Jaehee mentioned something about running into some religious nutbags preaching their word on the street.” Seven frowned. “Religious weirdos drugging people... reminds me of Jonestown.” He seemed to shiver just thinking about it. Drawing his hood up over his head, Seven burrowed into his jacket and returned to his computers, for once without any reprimanding from Vanderwood. “I've never seen her before in my life,” he told his senior. “But if she knows my name, it explains why you brought her here.”

Vanderwood grunted in agreement.

Seven's face broke into a toothy grin. “And here I thought my housemaid was just horny~”

Vanderwood scowled. “Don't project!”

“No need to be embarrassed, madam,” Seven crooned, ducking Vanderwood's swipe as the older man headed to the kitchen to retrieve his coffee. “Such urges are perfectly natural! Just take a night to relax in bed with yourself, and feel free to borrow my copy of _Promiscuous_ _Jalape_ _ñ_ _o Topping_!”

“I don't need your porn, damn it!” came the response.

Seven chuckled at his own joke and chugged his Ph D. Pepper. Staring at his monitor, he knew he would need to take a break soon; his eyes were blurring after hours of nonstop screenage all day. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyelids. Picking up the little bottle of the fake drug, Seven squinted at it again, examining it from every angle with his naked eye.

He almost dropped it when a loud scream abruptly broke the white noise of monitor beepings. He looked over to the table to find their patient awake and on her feet. The girl was struggling to stand under the lingering effects of the anesthesia, but she was poised behind the table, leaning on it heavily, appearing to have wanted it between herself and Seven. Her eyes were a bit unfocused, but they would occasionally flick between Seven's face and the jar he held.

“Don't do it! Please... Please, I swear I'll be useful!” she cried, shrinking behind the table. Seven assumed she must think he held the real poison, and he quickly put down the vial. “Don't!” she screamed when he took a step in her direction. “Please don't kill me! I promise I'm still useful! I promise... I promise...!”

“Of course you're still useful,” Vanderwood scoffed from the kitchen doorway, where he was leaning and sipping his coffee. “I have questions and you have answers.”

His statement was not well-received by her, and for it, Vanderwood found himself smacked in the face with the box of latex gloves. 

Seven barely restrained himself from laughing as the box plopped to the floor, because the look on Vanderwood's face was  _hilarious!_ He couldn't remember the last time the agent had been taken off guard.

“Please _do_ calm down,” Vanderwood ordered, massaging his nose where he'd been struck. “I know you're upset, but I _will_ use my taser if necessary.”

Another object, this time a plastic container of cotton balls, flew in his direction, although Vanderwood was better prepared. He caught the weapon in one hand, lazily raised an eyebrow, and then chose to throw the box  _right back at her_ . She gave a yelp before ducking behind the table as the item soared over her head.

“Madam, you can't attack our guest,” Seven chided, although he found the entire situation highly amusing. He donned his glassed once more and pushed back his hood. “Even if she is a rather feisty one!”

At the sound of his playful voice, the young woman peeked over the tabletop at him. After a moment, she stood up fully, body shaking. “You're not him...?”

Seven tilted his head. “I'm not _who_?”

“If you're referring to the men who drugged you, they are far away,” interrupted Vanderwood, cautiously approaching the corner of the room where she stood unsure.

“I....” her voice faltered. “I don't remember.”

“Well, I'm telling you. You were drugged with something highly toxic,” Vanderwood explained. “And judging from your state, I'd wager you are seriously exhausted, dehydrated, and malnourished.”

She flinched. “...they aren't allowed to feed me.”

“You mean you aren't allowed to _eat_!?” exclaimed Seven in disbelief. Vanderwood ignored his coworker and picked up the glass of dark liquid.

“Here,” he instructed, holding it out to the woman. Her body was still shaking, an effect while her body fought the toxins. “You should drink this.”

She backed away, shaking her head. But that proved to be a mistake when her legs collapsed underneath her and she dropped to the floor painfully.

“You have nothing in your system aside from the drug right now,” Vanderwood said, crouching in front of her. Still, she tried to crawl away from him. He sighed; they would do this the hard way then. Vanderwood followed in pursuit until she had backed herself into a corner of Seven's video game cabinets. “Trust me, you need to flush the poison out of your system. If you don't...”

Her eyes grew wide. “They'll cleanse me, won't they?”

He said nothing, only holding the glass higher towards her face. She watched him warily. Vanderwood crouched in place, making no large movements. He held her gaze, unyielding, until her hand tentatively tried to take the glass from him. However, she was shaking so badly that she almost dropped it. Vanderwood helped her lean against the cabinet and brought the glass to her lips, tilting it back slowly. 

It was heavy medicine to flush out the toxins in her body, and it tasted just as bad, so Vanderwood had added some maple syrup for flavor. He knew it would still taste off, though. However, the girl appeared not to have noticed, for she was gulping it down quickly.  _She really was famished_ , he noted. “Easy,” he told her when she coughed on a large sip.

When the glass was empty, he stood and placed it on the counter. If she'd had more strength, Vanderwood was certain she would have made a run for it, now that she wasn't cornered. However, she was too weak to move.

And the drink took effect immediately.

“Ugh, I feel awful,” she groaned, coughing. “What... _what_ did you do to me...?”

Vanderwood placed a trash bin in front of her. All he said was, “You're welcome.”

The girl glared at him, but she had no chance to respond when a wave of nausea overcame her. She heaved straight into the bin.

“Yuck!” Seven muttered, looking away. Vanderwood snorted at his childish behavior.

Knowing she would be throwing up for a few minutes at least, he turned to Seven. “Why aren't you working?”

The redhead rolled his eyes. “If you had a strange girl puking in your house, would  _you_ be working?”

Vanderwood narrowed his eyes. “ _Yes_ .”

“Yeesh! Scary!” replied Seven, hurrying back to his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaehee would be completely offended at Vanderwood's dismissal of Zen's performance as 'porn'.
> 
> While writing these chapters, the Tom Cruise movie "The Firm" soundtrack plays on repeat. 'Mud Island Chase', in particular, has become my headcanon theme for Vanderwood.


End file.
